Collaboration
by firsttimefan
Summary: When Castle injures himself in her world, necessity dictates Kate Beckett steps into his. Fluff. T for absolute safety.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

She found them passing through the lobby on her way in. She was going to ask for an update if they were on the move so early, but they were in their workout clothes and saw Castle walking between them also in casual sportswear.

It looks like they had roped him into working out with them. She knew he was a little self-conscious there but after his first session, he had merely developed a newfound determination. From the rumors she heard in the break room and even on the other floors of the precinct, he did a reasonable job. This wasn't the first time she had come in and found them already there.

They had extended the invitation to her, but she declined, knowing this was something they did together- she figured she should share him a little. And it was cute, watching them razz each other.

"Hey guys," she greeted them.

Ryan and Esposito gave her half-hearted replies, not looking directly at her. She felt her eyes narrow suspiciously and the two men shifted their weight subtly.

This was going to be interesting. The last time they looked this nervous was when they had eaten all the fortune cookies while she was in with Gates and she came out to find them trying to catch her m&m's in their mouths.

"Where are you going?"

They glanced at each other and then to Castle. Her eyes narrowed in on the way he had his arm tucked in against his chest.

"Oh, you know," Castle shrugged. "Just to the hospital."  
"The hospital," she repeated slowly.

"Yeah, well," his eyebrows knit together as he ran out of words.

"I broke his hand," Esposito mumbled. At his side Ryan looked at her nervously.

"You broke his hand."

"Hey, no taking all the credit," Castle interrupted. "_I_ broke my hand."

"It was a team effort," Ryan explained.

She narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.

"No! No. I wasn't part of the team," Ryan bailed.

"Bro!" Esposito shoved his shoulder.

"What? I wasn't!"

"So such for solidarity," Castle grumbled.

She rearranged her bag over her shoulder and let out a sigh. The gathered men looked at her apprehensively, as if they expected her to dress them down in the lobby.

"How bad is it?"

"Lanie's orders," they informed her. While a little surprised her friend was already in she now appreciated why they had looked so nervous to see her. Lanie must have been in early because she was being pressed for an autopsy and they had rendered her early morning useless. She probably hadn't been very civil and had resorted to listing all the things Beckett was going to do to them when she discovered they had put her partner out of commission.

More to the point, if Lanie couldn't deal with it, he really needed to get it looked at. From the pinched look on his face and the way he kept it cradled so gingerly against his chest, it was really hurting him.

"You two head on back up and let the Captain know when she gets in. Come on Castle. I take it you have your wallet and ID for the hospital?"

"Of course," he nodded then turned to his partners. "If you go and get it for me."

They beat a hasty retreat.

"I will take you Castle on the condition that we stop for coffee on the way. I know better than to drink hospital coffee."

"I know better than to offer it to you."

**OOOO**

"Are you angry?"  
"Do I have a reason to be angry?"

"No?"

"Did you break any equipment?"

"No."

"Any holes in the wall?"

"No."

"Then I'm good."

At least she couldn't think of a reason why she wouldn't be. She wasn't thrilled about missing the morning at work. Well, she was pretty happy that she wasn't doing paperwork right now, but that was offset by the knowledge she would just have to do it later. At least she had the papers and files she was going to review for court this afternoon in her bag. She could go over the case while they were in the waiting room.

She heard a sharp intake of breath as she hit a pothole.

"Sorry," she said and glanced over at him. His face was tight and he was staring fixedly out the windshield. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Just knocked it a little."

She let her eyes fix on his hand before concentrating back on traffic. She was alarmed at the level of bruising spreading up towards his wrist. She knew the bleeding would have been aggravated by the physical activity. His elevated heart rate sparring would have pumped the blood faster and spread the bruising.

But this was too extreme to be just bruising.

"Did Lanie tell you how bad it is?"

"She said unless I let her do an X-ray she wouldn't be certain, but she said I'll be lucky if I haven't broken anything."

She hummed in response and brought the car to halt at the lights. "Do you always hit Esposito that hard?"

He looked surprised. "That hard?" he repeated in askance. "We were just playing around. If we were really going for it we would have been strapped."

"You were playing around with enough force you to break your hand, Castle."  
"It wouldn't have broken if it had connected," he assured her. "Espo ducked and I hit the wall. You know for a big guy, he's really fast."  
"The concrete wall?" she confirmed.

He didn't dignify that with a response. She just looked at him, noting the muscles along his arm that were usually concealed, calculating the power they could generate. Quite a lot apparently. Lanie was right: his hand was not just bruised.

"Castle," she sighed. "What is Alexis going to think when you get home?"

"She's interning with Lanie tonight, so she'll hear about it long before she sees me."

She lapsed back into silence, keeping her attention split between the road and the tense posture of his body.

"It kind of stinks," he offered a minute later when they were about a block out. "This is going to mess with our routine."

"Come on Castle," she told him lightly. "You'll be back at the precinct by tomorrow. Next week tops."

"I didn't mean our routine," he informed her. "Alexis and I have a routine when we're sick or we hurt ourselves. This might be the last time before she leaves, too."

"Oh I wouldn't worry, Castle. Knowing you there'll be another opportunity."

"Excuse me," he huffed. "I never get sick."

"But you are accident prone. I know you didn't come in for a few days last year because you were recovering after paintball. Martha told me."

"That was research," he defended himself heatedly. "I was working on the scene from Heat Rises!"

"Ah," she smiled. "So that's why Rook is accident prone too."

He just nodded quietly and she struggled to save the conversation. She didn't mean when Rook was shot saving Nikki, she meant the alley shooting scene in their undercover work. And being used as a hostage.

"I am not going to dress up as a hooker though, Castle. I'm going to leave that to Vice."

His face lightened a little when he acknowledged her reference to the earlier scene where both of their alter-egos walked away. They had never talked about him allowing Rook to take that bullet. Or the way Nikki had stayed with him. Their alternate summer.

"You never know, Beckett."

"Some things I know."

**OOO**

"You missed."

It was a calm statement as the doctor returned with the X-rays and put them up on the illuminated wall space.

"How can you tell?"

"I've met a lot of people whose intelligence have left something to be desired, but I don't think even their heads are hard enough to do this kind of damage."  
When she looked closer at the sheet of plastic, she could see what the doctor was referring to. The knuckle on his middle finger had several cracks visible to even her untrained eyes.

If he was capable of that kind of force, it was no wonder Lockwood had been out cold long before she reached them.

"Well, let's see here. There is obvious damage to your knuckles, both sets actually but the larger fractures occur in the lower set. There are some hairline fractures in the upper phalanges and you've broken two of your distals too." He glanced over at them to find them both studying the x-ray carefully rather than looking at him blankly. "Can you follow that?"

Castle jerked his head in her direction. "Her best friend is a Medical Examiner."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"What is the recommended treatment?" Beckett asked.

"Usually we would straighten the bones and strap them, but with the multiple traumas in such a concentrated area, I would have to recommend a light cast for at least six weeks. As you can see, the area is very swollen so I would like to put you in back-slab. It's not a full cast and will make things more comfortable for you, especially with the swelling."

"You hear that, Beckett?" he sounded excited as he looked up at her. "You get to sign something for me. I promise you get first dibs."

"Thank you?"

"Well, Mr. Castle, let's get you down to the treatment ward and see if we can't put your hand back the way it was."

The doctor moved to the doorway and motioned to a nurse who waited to escort them. Castle slipped off the bed and noted the way Beckett was already close against his side as if she was preparing to catch him. He considered pointing out to her that there would be no influence to his balance but there was a tender light to her face she didn't seem to be aware of and he decided to allow her this non-verbal comforting.

"If you could take Mr. Castle and his partner back and prep him, I'll be there shortly to supervise."

The nurse nodded and began leading them slowly through the E.R department. She looked over her shoulder at the two and asked if they had decided on a colour.

"What do you think, Beckett?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who is going to have to keep it for over a month."

He didn't seem fazed by her teasing. "This is going to be your first autograph, Beckett," he insisted. "Of course I have to have your input."

She smiled and shook her head.

"Black would be cool, but the marker wouldn't show up," he mused. "ooh," he exclaimed. "It would if we got some of those special pens. Gold and silver and the ones designed for writing on black paper."

"That would look cool," she granted. "But dragging those pens everywhere is going to get annoying."

"Good point."

"White would be easiest but it would get grungy."  
"A given," he nodded. "No pink, purple or yellow either."

"What have you got against purple? You have purple shirts."

"Alexis has already used those colors. We said we'd go for the whole rainbow."

At this they caught the nurse sending them a worried look.

"So you have blue, green, orange and red to choose from."  
"I don't want orange."

"You can't make your daughter take the orange one. She already has ginger hair. You're not that mean."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll leave orange for if I break my leg. That way I can cover it with my pants." He cringed. "The things I do for her."  
They entered the small bay and the nurse pulled the curtains, screening them from view before pulling materials from various compartments around the room.

He sat down on the stool, resting his arm vertically on the table and she came to rest just off his shoulder.

"Blue would match your eyes," she offered.

"Why detective."  
"Shut up. You're hurt, I was being nice."

"Pity, huh?" he narrowed his eyes at her before shooting her a grin. "I'll take it."  
They watched the preparations intently and both noticed the nurse coloring under their attention. He grinned and mouthed _fan_ when the woman turned to look out the curtains for the doctor.

Kate clipped him over the back of the head.

"Red," he said suddenly. "I'm going for red."

"You better have decided and not just be going to use that for another bad joke."

"Another bad joke?" he looked affronted.

She just sighed and looked for the nurse who had disappeared.

"You doing okay there, Castle?" It hurt just to look at his hand which was swollen with purple licking up his veins and gathering in angry storm clouds across his knuckles. His fingers were stiff with it.

"The morphine took the edge off."

They both went back to contemplating his hand.

"You think you could snap a picture for me?"

She blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Is that a no?"

She fished her phone out reluctantly. "No," she grumbled. She stepped around so she had a full view. She frowned and craned over so she could take it from an angle at the top where the lighting was better.

"Ooh. Show me." His face was full of childish excitement. She shook her head and turned the phone so he could see.

"Now that is cool. You've got to admit that looks pretty awesome."

"Awesome? Try gruesome. You just better hope I don't send this to Alexis."

"And give her all day to stew? I thought you like me."

"Sometimes."

"I knew it."

He took to tapping his free hand on his knee. His constant movement just on the edge of her vision was slowly driving her mad. The way his head would turn every few seconds, fixing on some fixture of the room. She knew he was very good at cataloging a room, but his movements now had no pattern. He would usually slowly sweep from one side to the other so as not to skip anything.

But this was a nervous energy she had rarely seen in him. He needed something to focus on until the Doctor came back.

"I had no idea you and the guys were training this hard," she offered. He immediately dedicated his full attention to her, rooting her in place with the sudden force of the transfer.

"You're not going to ground them are you?"  
His face was a picture of pure concern for his friends. It was cute and the way he was looking up at her reminded of her of the way elementary and grade school students might look up pleadingly at teachers.

"No," she snorted but smiled when his face relaxed.

"Good."

"But, grounded or not, you will not be playing with them for a long time."

"Come on Beckett," he pouted. "People break fingers everyday. I'll even just use my left hand."

She opened her mouth to tell him just how stupid he sounded but the doctor beat her to it.

"I'm afraid she's right, Mr. Castle. Don't even think about throwing a punch for another three months."

"Three months?" They watched as the nurse followed him through the curtain partition.

"That's an optimistic estimation," he was firm. "Now, I'd like to get under way. We're going to start by straightening your hand out and giving some of the blood flow a chance to return. I need you to tell me about any numbness or pressure, any severe pain."

Castle just nodded as the Doctor carefully took hold of his fingers. As they unfolded the digits from the loose fist she let her hand graze against the one he kept fisted on his knee. For a long second, she thought he was going to ignore it, or that he hadn't felt it through the pain, then his fingers snapped out and curled themselves around hers in a firm grip.

The doctor took a moment to survey the progress before nodding shortly in approval.

"You did very well Mr. Castle. Now we're going to set the bones and strap them. It is imperative you keep us updated on any sensations. I will warn you if something is going to be painful, but ideally you shouldn't be in any more pain than you were earlier."

Kate felt herself nodding in time with Castle.

They slowly uncurled his fingers. To her relief they moved naturally, the bones staying straight under his skin rather than contorting. The doctor nodded to Castle and he tightened his grip on her hand.

He didn't even flinch. It didn't sound right to say she felt cheated, but she had expected him to make a big deal out of it when the bones were set. Complain. To make any response. She had seen a lot of bones set or even fractures set and the silence was unnerving.

She didn't want to see him in pain, but she almost wished he had fussed. That way she knew he was feeling well enough to make a scene. This silence just gave her room to think, and the evaluating looks the doctor and the nurse were shooting him weren't putting her at ease. If they thought he should be reacting, verbally or otherwise that had to mean he should be in a lot of pain.

She felt her stomach tremble uneasily at the thought.

"How does that feel Mr. Castle?"

"Not bad."

"Any tightness, pressure?"

"No."

"Any tingling? Pins and needles?"

"They're not as hot," he offered quietly.

"Yes, the blood is draining from the area now it's straightened out. If it feels comfortable, we'll go ahead and put you in the back-slab now."

"Sure."

The doctor nodded to his nurse, and she slipped a towel under his elbow.

"I'm aware that you are a writer," the doctor said some minutes later.

"Yes."  
"And you are right handed."

"I wouldn't worry about that. I'm not known for being particularly dedicated. A few days without typing won't hurt."

He doctor paused and looked at him directly.

"Mr. Castle, in this slab, typing would be very difficult even if you hadn't broken fingers. Not only that, the cast restricts your thumb. You won't be able to use this hand to type until the cast is removed at least. Six to eight weeks. After that it could be up to another month before your hand is fully functional."

Castle and Beckett both stared at him after his prognosis.

He processed their silence and seemed to realize it wasn't of acceptance or preoccupation.

"You don't know how close you are to requiring surgery Mr. Castle. If these bones hadn't been relatively in place, or the breaks had been any more compounded, you would be in surgery now. Trust me when I say you will not be typing for at least two months."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOOO**

_He processed their silence and seemed to realize it wasn't of acceptance or preoccupation._

"_You don't know how close you are to requiring surgery Mr. Castle. If these bones hadn't been relatively in place, or the breaks had been any more compounded, you would be in surgery now. Trust me when I say you will not be typing for at least two months."_

**OOOOO**_  
_

"It's going to be okay, Castle."

"I know. I was actually looking into this program that transcribes as you dictate last year."

"How was it?"

"I used the trial run for a month, but," he sighed. "it wasn't quite the same. But it should be fine for a little while." Two months. He wouldn't type for two whole months.

She accepted that without further questions and he was grateful. He couldn't explain exactly why he hadn't liked that program. Not out loud with the right words that would make sense to her.

At first the program had been exciting. It was super-cool and he felt a bit like a superhero with high-tec gadgets, or that he was from the future or something. Technology never ceased to amaze him. He had whole pages of utterly irrelevant things still saved somewhere on his hard drive. He even got Alexis to talk for a few minutes.

But listening to his own voice had drowned out the ideas and words that had been in his head, so desperately trying to make themselves known. He had thought that being able to speak as they came to him would let him keep pace with the way they formed and then evolved in his mind. So many times he had been writing and the thought had taken him somewhere amazing, leaving him typing madly to try and catch up before he lost the stepping stones his unconscious had somehow found.

When he talked aloud, he only ever focused on what was coming out of his mouth at the time and the end product had read far too ordinary. Literally off the top of his head.

"I have to be in court in an hour but I'll come back and check on you tonight," her voice interrupted his thoughts. She looked over at him and a small smile lifted her face. "If you're good I'll even try some of those traditions you were talking about earlier."

And just like that it wasn't so bad.

She pulled up to the sidewalk just outside his building and he got out grinning.

"Maybe you should have asked Alexis before you made that offer, detective."

Her face contracted in worry.

"Not for permission," he assured her. "Just so you were aware of what you're getting yourself into."

Her eyes narrowed playfully, not masking the sudden relief. "What am I getting myself into?"

"Just you wait."

"Can't wait," she rolled her eyes teasingly and went to drive.

"Kate!"

She looked back over at him surprised. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

She didn't know how hard it was for him to be back in a hospital again. He hadn't been sure if being with her would make the experience better or worse, but his fear seemed ridiculous now.

"You're welcome."  
He watched her until she was out of view and even when he was gritting his teeth to stop swearing when he was trying to wrestle his key into the lock left-handed , he tried not to smile as he recalled the soft look that had suffused her whole face in that moment.

He let himself in, hooking his knee behind him and gently kicking the door closed behind him. Once he heard the distinctive click of the auto-lock engage he wandered forward towards the couches. They were attractive but didn't look comfortable. The backs looked too low to be serviceable for any serious slouching or lazing. But once sitting down, they were amazing. Deceptive. He liked things to be a little deceptive.

Right now they were calling his name. He let his gym bag slip off his shoulder and connect bodily with the floor before he turned and flopped lengthwise onto his furniture. This called for full lazing. None of that half hearted slouching-and-use-the-coffee-table-as-a-footrest nonsense.

When he had found a comfortable place for his head, he sighed and let his eyes close slowly. Open. Close. Stay open and train on the panels of light his windows threw on the walls and ceiling.

Well this is not how he had foreseen his day going. He was home and it was only…he lifted his left arm lazily so he could squint at the watch there…11.46. He was home at 11.46 on a work day.

This sucked.

But he had made it through the hospital without freaking out, so he supposed he should be grateful for the little things. Mental stability over a sore hand.

And it was a little sore. The pain medicine was still numbing most of it but it still pulsed uncomfortably.

The doctor had said it was a good thing the blow had never connected. Castle was inclined to agree. As much as it hurt right now, it would hurt Espo a whole lot more if it had landed. He could only assume the gloves they usually wore cushioned the blows a lot, because Esposito had never said anything except to push him harder.

He could just be a machine.

Castle snorted and levered himself up, noting the knot in his sling was in a very uncomfortable place. Whether Esposito was a machine or not, Castle was human and his stomach was suggesting he might want to replace some of the calories which had been worked off during the morning's workout.

One handed he raided his fridge and extracted the last leftovers from last night's dinner. He had been planning to save them for dinner tonight but it looks like Alexis had taken a good share to work for lunch too.

He scooped the rest of the chicken and the basil vegetables onto a plate with a ladle grumbling under his breath about how annoying it was not being able to lift the dish and scoop at the same time.

He may have shut the microwave door a little too forcefully and punched at the dials hard enough to push the machine back an inch.

He sighed, knowing he was ridiculous and turned away from the machine to inspect the cupboards. If Beckett was heading back after court, he could probably rope her into staying for dinner.

He had bought the chicken breasts yesterday and Alexis was supposed to have picked up spice after work on Wednesday. He figured he could manage that much one handed.

After locating the spice already tucked neatly away in its place he pulled open the freezer and noted his ice cream stocks were healthy. Looks like his daughter might have replaced one of the tubs too.

Special, that one.

The chime on the other side of the kitchen interrupted his inventory.

He burnt his fingertips on the bottom of his plate before he could set it down on the bench. When he did drop the plate there, half of the vegetables abandoned it in favor of the bench and had to be forced back with clumsy fork maneuvers.

His food was cold long before he finished. He had to eat the chicken like a cave man, spearing it with his fork and eating a bite at a time because he couldn't use a knife.

There was still half a plate left when he decided it wasn't worth the effort. He felt bad about it considering all the effort Alexis had expended making it, but that just made him a little more frustrated, thinking how Alexis was going to have to help him even more for the next couple of months.

He pushed back from the bar and headed into his office leaving the kitchen and his plate as they were.

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't play games one handed. He couldn't pilot his helicopter one handed. He didn't have a movie he wanted to watch – not by himself; that would be in violation of the sick-day regulations. The book he was supposed to be reading for Black Pawn was crap.

All the things he was supposed to do on his day off.

Hell he couldn't even write.

And Nikki was teasing him. She seemed to be offering him a possible way around the hole he had been skirting. But he needed to work it out on paper. Tentative connections were forming but his mind couldn't keep them straight as they all connected.

Of course he would have a brain wave when he had been specifically told he couldn't write. He still had the dictation program installed but he didn't want to lose this. He wanted to get the important steps down rather than concentrate on getting out full sentences.

But when did he ever listen to anyone?

He brought his computer out of hibernation and opened his draft. He deliberately avoided looking at the last paragraph he had written, pressing Enter until it was out of sight. He started hopping around the keyboard with his left hand. Words reluctantly formed vertical lists as he fought to get down the phrases in the scene he had in his mind.

His frenzied one left hand typing got the keywords out one by one until he stopped and looked at the list of words and phrases that represented the thoughts slowly driving him mad.

He was driving himself mad over a list of words.

He had intended the stress ball to end up near the stairwell when he flung it away, but with his left hand his aim only directed it into the bookcases dividing off the room and rebounded at him.

He shut his eyes and counted mentally to ten. When that didn't help he started counting backwards from ten.

He was going to go mad if he stayed here. He slipped his loft key from the ring so he wouldn't jingle wherever he went and hit the stairwell at a jog.

OOOOOO

The door was locked. She knocked and rolled her weight onto one hip as she waited. There was no sound of movement and the red door made no sign it was going to move. She frowned and rang the bell.

Looks like that medicine might have knocked him out. She didn't really want to wake him up but she didn't particularly want to spend the next few hours in his hallway either. Plus, if he kept this up, he wouldn't be able to sleep at tonight, meaning he would be annoying if he made it into work tomorrow.

She dug out her phone and called him. She froze when she heard it ringing inside.

If she could hear it, he couldn't be in his room or his office. Had he crashed on his couch? It was more comfortable than it looked.

She dug out her own set of keys and flipped to the one she had never used. She knew he wouldn't mind. Mind? He'd love it.

He'd certainly never let her forget it.

She had the copy made after he had to break down her door. It would be a lot easier if she had a key in the case of an emergency and he just didn't know about it.

She let herself in and unconsciously searched the room for any disturbances when she found his phone unattended on the coffee table. It looked neat enough. No signs of a struggle.

But his meal was half eaten on the bar. The dishes were scattered over the bench.

She moved to the office and found it empty. She almost tripped over a stress ball.

Castle actually used those?

She scanned the room. Other than an upset pen holder nothing seemed out of place. His laptop was on with the screen saver still functioning.

Had he been writing?

Maybe it was from last night. She knew he had a tendency to leave it running. She remembered that conversation: sometimes he needed to write and didn't want to risk losing his train of thought waiting for the computer to boot. Sometimes typing messages on his phone wasn't good enough.

She caught sight of his wallet and keys on the desk.

"Castle?"

She moved into his bedroom, worry starting to rise. No phone, keys or wallet? That did not sound like the Castle she knew.

The bed was empty and roughly made. She strode through and scanned the bathroom. Empty.

Beckett pulled her phone out and was about to start going through their common contacts as she moved to check the second floor. Two steps up she heard the door unlock and she froze, putting her hand on her weapon but not drawing it. A key meant it was probably Martha or Alexis.

She wished it was Castle.

The door burst open when the lock had barely finished its rotation. He was red-faced and clearly drenched in sweat, gasping for breath as he moved towards the back of the loft.

He was here. She wasn't imagining it surely. He was really there.

"What the hell, Castle!" she yelled.

He jumped violently in a way she would have found amusing if she hadn't been so pissed at herself for freaking out and at him for worrying her.

"Kate?" he puffed, his face widening in surprise at her obvious anger as she stalked towards him.

"Castle! Where have you been?"

"Out for a run."

"Take your damn phone!" she shoved at the shoulder not in his sling to stop herself throwing her arms around him.

He was fine. He was safe.

"Wha," his face darkened as he recovered from the violent shove. "I don't like it distracting me. It bounces in my pocket," he frowned.

"I don't care. You take your phone with you or I get a tracking device."

"Whoa, Beckett!" he looked bewildered.

"My partner does not just go off grid, okay?" she squeezed her eyes shut for a second.

"Okay," he agreed, still looking at her with something like shock. "Okay. I'll take my phone with me next time. Sorry."

She let a hand rest on her head, taking a long moment to ground herself. "No, Castle," she breathed. "I'm sorry. I guess I kind of freaked."

"I get it. If you didn't answer your door and left everything behind I'd be yelling at Ryan and Esposito by now."

"That was my next call," she grimaced.

"Quite a pair, aren't we?"

She just shook her head in disbelief. She really must be losing it.

"I'm going to get a drink. You want something?"

"Whatever you're having."

"Water it is."

"Sounds good," she sighed and followed his broad, sweat-stained back to the kitchen. The sight prompted her back into awareness.

"Wait," she stopped and waited for him to look back at her. "You went for a run?"

"Yes?"

She closed her eyes. "Idiot."

"What?"

"You idiot, you broke bones today."

"I didn't break my leg," he objected.

"Haven't you done enough research to know it doesn't matter?" she moved into his space and pulled back the edge of sling to look at his hand. Sure enough the bruising had carried further with the heightened blood flow. His fingers were very red and swollen. Looks like he had tried to curl them into fists too. Made sense if he was running and she thanked the sturdy splints which had prevented him doing just that.

"Wow," his voice was on the top of her head.

"It's a good thing this back-slab allows for swelling or I'd be dragging you back to the hospital right now. Or to Lanie."

"I'll get some ice."

"Not that it'll do much good through all that."

"I'll find a way. There's a reason Lanie works with dead people- she's scary."

**R&R, please?**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"_Wow," his voice was on the top of her head. _

"_It's a good thing this back-slab allows for swelling or I'd be dragging you back to the hospital right now. Or to Lanie."_

"_I'll get some ice."_

"_Not that it'll do much good through all that."_

"_I'll find a way. There's a reason Lanie works with dead people- she's scary."_

**OOOO**

"So was there a reason you decided to take off and go running in a sling?" she meant to raise the subject lightly but at the mention of his excursion, her partner's face fell somber again.

"Nothing happened," he mumbled, shifting the small cooling pads on the exposed skin.

"Was it cooking? I saw your mess, but Castle, no one expects you to try and cook with just your left hand."

"I wasn't cooking," he denied looking a little bitter.

"I saw the office too. Almost tripped on the stress ball Alexis gave you meaning you must have been using it. What happened there? I was told it was purely for decoration."

He ran a hand through his hair and made as if to yank a handful out and she considered maybe she was pushing too hard. If Castle was anything like her, he was very sensitive when he was hurt. Maybe he just needed a little space.

She moved forward to inspect his hand but was surprised when he answered her question.

"I needed to write."

"The laptop was on. Couldn't you find the program you were talking about?"

He pulled away from her hands and started pacing in tight circles. She looked at him in alarm. She had never seen anything have this effect on her partner.

"There was just so much going on up here," he gestured none too sanely at his head. "And when I went to write, I just couldn't keep up one handed and it was just…there. It was right there and I couldn't even do that."

"Okay," she tried to soothe him. "You want to write."

"I just had to get it all out of my head."

"So you went for a run."

He didn't acknowledge her.

"And from the looks of it, it's all back and demanding your attention again," she sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated. "I'll help you."

"You'll help me write?" he looked confused.

"You know when I came back to work after the summer and you thought I was too thin?"

He looked a little guilty.

"Don't think I didn't notice, you were trying to push food on me the moment I wasn't talking. I felt like I ate for two weeks solid."

"You needed it." It was low but his face was stubborn.

"You know why I was that size?"

"Because you were recovering?" he hedged.

"No. Because when I wasn't at work I was always running or with my trainer trying to get back to 100%. I trained so I could train more."

He just stared at her.

"Don't tell me it doesn't make sense. You know what I mean."

"No, I do," he reassured her. "Your determination to get back to normal almost drove me insane when I wasn't proud."

Her face froze but he didn't retract the words. She worked her throat for a moment before she could continue.

"Not being able to do even the easiest things for myself drove me mad. I guess I went a little overboard when I was able to do some of those things again."

"Kate," he started to say but she cut him off.

"But you and I are different people."

He looked at her in question.

"Because you are going to let me help you."

"You're going to help me?"

"Are you trying to insult me?"

"What? No."

"Good. I know what you really want to do right now is write, but before that I'm going to help you clean up and get you showered."

He was still looking at her blankly.

"You smell, Castle."

He blinked. "I can't shower." He looked at his arm.

"I'll just make sure you don't get your cast wet. And you should probably take some of your pain medication."

"I don't want it. It makes my head fuzzy."

"Well, considering what you were saying earlier, maybe that wouldn't be too bad, at least not until we get you settled and I can help you get some of your thoughts down."

"I guess."

"Plus, you're really going to start feeling that arm. Especially after you decided to go and bounce it around for an hour or so." She started to lead him through the loft towards his bedroom.

"Guess I didn't think about it when I left."

"You didn't feel it when you were running?"

"I was too busy trying not to be grumpy. Being here with nothing to do is punishment. I can't remember being so bored."

She shook her head in amusement and slipped his arm out of the sling and pulled the aid over his head. Next she moved her hands to his waist and took hold of the bottom of his T-shirt.

"Okay lift up."

He obliged. "This is embarrassing."

"You think this is embarrassing," she muttered.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not."

"I mean it's just one hand, I should be able to do this stuff."

"Isn't that exactly why you're freaking out? Because you should be able to do this?"

"I'm still freaking out?"

"You kind of are. Don't worry. In a couple of days you'll have sorted out how to do this stuff for yourself and Alexis or Martha will be able to give you a hand."

"Beckett," he sounded aggrieved.

"Sorry. Completely unintentional. I meant they will be able to help you. Head forward."

She pulled the T-shirt over his head and was presented with a view of his pale wide back.

He pulled out his uninjured arm and waited for her to work the sleeve over his cast.

"Alright put this on and I'll tape it." she handed him a plastic bag.

"How did you know where that was?"

"Are you nervous that I've looked through your house Castle? You hiding something?"

"What?" he scoffed. "More worried that you broke into my house. How did you get in by the way?"

"I used a key, caveman."

"I never gave you a key," he sounded giddy. How could he be happy she had borrowed and copied his key?

"Well, if it makes you any better I really had to look for the tape."

"Don't avoid the subject."

"If you want me to help you, you better shut up, Castle."

"So not fair," he grumbled, watching her wind the tape around his arm. She took her time, hoping it would give her the opportunity to get her blush under control.

When she was sure no signs of her embarrassment were visible she looked up and faced him squarely. His eyes were already intent on her and she felt her breath get a little higher.

"Okay let's go."

"Let's go?" he repeated.

"And get you clean."

" 'Let's', meaning both of us?"

She blushed a little and groaned inwardly. "Yes Castle. I was going to wash your hair over the bath and then you can shower."

"Oh." He had the decency to look abashed and let them to the bathroom without further comment. He hit the light switch on the way in and she was able to fully appreciate the size and the furnishings of the room.

"Thanks. You have a bucket or a container I can use? Oh, and some towels."

"Yeah, just hold on a sec and I'll get something from the kitchen."

She watched him leave, noting the ways she could see the muscled in his back move subtly as he walked. He wasn't hard, but he wasn't as soft as she had been expecting. When he disappeared from view, she stepped into his shower and retrieved his shampoo and conditioner. She noted the marble sheathing was very handsome. A little extravagant perhaps, but tasteful enough that it wasn't offensive.

"It has a steam option, too," he announced from behind her. She felt her nerves kick but was proud that she kept it internal and hadn't allowed herself let out more than a blink at his sudden reappearance.

"It's nice," she told him as she stepped out and herded him towards the bath.

"I like it," he smiled and handed her the plastic jug he had brought with him. She took it with a nod and he set down a folded towel to kneel on.

She waited until he was settled and then stepped into position behind him, filling the jug with warm water. She put her hand in the run off from the bath to test the temperature and felt his stare. She ignored him, refilling the jug.

"Alright, head down," she commanded.

He complied without comment and she began to slowly drench his hair, starting from the base of his neck and moving forwards, trying to shepherd the water away from his ears. She refilled the jug and used her other hand to grip his chin and gently reposition his head to one side so she could reach the rest of his hair.

His eyes were soft as he watched her and she had a strong suspicion that her face must have been betraying a small measure of the contentment she was feeling so she let out a small cough to draw his attention away.

"So are you going to tell me about this book?"

"I don't want to," he muttered as she gently poured water over his head and worked it in.

"What?" she was surprised. "Why not?"

"Because I want you to read it," he said in a small voice.

"Of course I'll read it, Castle." She set the jug on the floor and reached for his shampoo. Sea breeze. Didn't have much of a fragrance at all.

"But, you'll know if I tell you."

"That's not going to change the way I'll see your work."

His face was still downcast, looking at the bottom of his bath. "It won't be the same."

"Castle," she sighed, not understanding. Was this some writer thing?

"I write them for you," he mumbled, causing her hands to pause as she reached out for him. "It won't be the same if you know what happens."

"You write for me?" her breath hitched.

He looked up and studied her face. She had no idea what he saw there because she couldn't put a label on what she was feeling, but whatever it was, he began to close back up again.

"Look, I'm sorry. If you could just help me do my hair, I'll see you at the precinct in a couple of days."

"Oh no you don't." She took a handful of hair and pulled his head up to meet her. "You are going to let me help you."

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Did you mean it?"

He tried to look away but she used her convenient hold on him and made him meet her eyes.

"Castle, did you mean it?"

"Yes. I write about Nikki but you're the audience I think of when I do. I write her for you."

"Why?" She demanded softly.

"So one day you will see how extraordinary you are," he forced his eyes to her startled gaze. "You have no idea, Kate. I write because I know you admire Nikki and can see some of yourself in her. But Kate, Nikki could never live up to you."

Try as she might, she couldn't force any words to mind, let alone through her mouth but he seemed to understand. After a lingering look, he faced the bath again, letting her attempt to process his confession.

Almost mechanically she massaged the shampoo through his hair. The movements prompted her mind back into business.

"Thank you," she let her hands rest in his hair, just holding him.

Thank you for having so much faith in me. Sorry you have too much faith in me.

The thought threatened to close her throat. She would be better. She would just have to live up to his trust.

"Castle," she managed. "Here is something just for you. As much as I love your books, you don't know how much it would mean to me if I could help you give people justice. You help me get justice for people everyday. This time I want to help you."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"_Thank you," she let her hands rest in his hair, just holding him. _

_Thank you for having so much faith in me. Sorry you have too much faith in me._

_The thought threatened to close her throat. She would be better. She would just have to live up to his trust._

"_Castle," she managed. "Here is something just for you. As much as I love your books, you don't know how much it would mean to me if I could help you give people justice. You help me get justice for people everyday. This time I want to help you." _

**OOOO**

The gentle sensation of her fingers running in soothing patterns was threatening to send him to sleep now he was sure she wasn't going to bolt. The only reason he didn't was the uncomfortable chill that remained in the side of the bath and leaning over it made it hard to breathe.

"So fill me in," her voice broke their truce of silence. "Who is our victim?"

Wow. She was really serious about helping him with this.

He hadn't allowed him to think about it after the bombshell she had dropped on him – her words were enough. But she seemed determined. A thrill of excitement ran through him at the possibility of writing with Kate.

"A NYU student."

"Crime scene?"

"New York Public Library."

"Really?" there was disbelief in her tone.

"You don't like it?" he tensed, anxious for her response.

"No," she was emphatic. "I like the library."

"But not the student," his voice was muffled as it wafted up from the bath, sounding strange even to his ears.

"The Richard Castle I know is allergic to clichés."

"It's not clichéd," he argued. "But I guess it's not very interesting."

"That's better."

"So, not a student," he muses. "That means a page one rewrite almost."

"What?" she sounded startled. "You can't be serious."  
"The motive is no longer relevant. I need another victim."

"Why did you kill her?"

"She was a witness."

"So you could keep the motive the same, right? Have them overhear something."

"I could. So who would make a good victim?"

"No one makes a good victim, Castle," she chided him.

"An intriguing one then. Give me five."

"Five?"

"So I can pick and choose. Knowing the way your mind works, you'll have too many good ideas to narrow it down to any less."

"Five characters," she mused. "People who would have been in a good position to overhear some important information."

He could hear her thinking as she rinsed out the shampoo with deft movements.

"All right. I'll start easy. A receptionist."

"Pass."

"A lawyer."

"Not bad," he granted.

"A bail bondsman."  
"Ooh! I like it."

"I figure you do this research for a reason, right?"

"And I really have a life time of stories now, but it isn't as easy as it looks finding a case that can intersect with both Nikki and Rook's lives. The last case, I went for interesting, but since Rook wasn't actually shadowing Nikki, he didn't have much of a role, plot-wise at least."

"You let him help her after-hours."

"I thought it was about time that I started letting him mature and be more than the annoying sidekick."

"I'm glad. You know in _Heat Wave _I didn't really like Rook," she offered.

"You weren't supposed to. I wrote him so he could evolve."

"He was as annoying as you were when you started following me, but he wasn't even helpful."

"I knew you didn't hate me," he gloated.

"Didn't mean I wasn't serious about shooting you. But I guess it makes sense; you've come a long way, so Rook is starting to follow."

"He'll do better this time, I hope. It depends on the case."

"Paparazzi," she said suddenly. "If the victim was a member of the paparazzi, that would work into Rook's world."

"I think I'm offended you referred to Rook as a gossip hound."

She smacked his head lightly.

"Hey!" he grumbled.

"Idiot."

"So, what made you think of that?"

"The dog show case. And a little of the Burns case last year – not that he was a member of the paparazzi."

"Hmm," his mind was starting to hit overdrive again and he wished that he could sit down and start his murder board.

"Not good?" she asked, her hands slowing in their application of the conditioner.

"No. I like it, I really do."

Her hands started moving again and he could hear the sound of her relieved sigh fall into the bath.

"What was it the victim overheard?"

"I had a good idea, but it was a little, controversial. That was what I've been thinking about all afternoon."

"Controversial? Please tell me you aren't thinking about including the CIA or a possible third world war."  
"No! I don't want to give any ideas to the people out there behind that whole mess."  
"So what was it?" she sat on the bath and let him sit up as they waited for the conditioner.  
"Promise not to be mad?"

Her face which had been light and excited, darkened.

"I was thinking of having them overhear about a treasure." He watched her face carefully, hoping she wouldn't object to the use of the case involving her former Training Officer. When her face didn't outwardly change he continued cautiously. "A millionaire's house was robbed and the jewelry hidden. The man was caught but he was shanked in prison. He was going to be victim one when Nikki made the connection."

"And the paparazzi would get wind of it how?"

"They would be following the wife. The jewels were hers."  
"And she knew about the plan, how?"

"Because she arranged the theft. She wanted them sold discretely for a nest egg. Her husband is going to divorce her and she'll have nothing."

"It sounds plausible, but you've killed off the only person who knows where the jewels are which means there is nothing for the paparazzi to overhear."

He frowned.

"If it were me," she started with a thoughtful look.

"Which it is," he grinned.

"I would look into ordered the hit on the thief."

"Nice," he couldn't stop his eyes jumping around the room. There were just too many possibilities and he liked this story so much more he wanted to write it now. With Kate giving him some of the information, his mind was racing to weave it into his growing plot. He really wanted his murder board right now.

"I know what you're thinking, Castle, but you can't go anywhere until you're clean."

He looked at her and saw the amusement and a little of the same excitement in her eyes. It didn't still the sudden energy thrilling through him, but only made him want to write more.

"It'll all still be there in half an hour. Use the time in the shower to think and we can talk when you get out. "

**OOOO**

It took a total of two days to plan this new novel. Richard Castle would be the first to admit that since joining the volunteer squad at the 12th precinct, he had never wanted for stories. There was a new case which got his creative juices almost every month.

But considering Rook didn't shadow Nikki the way he did Beckett, not all of them were the easiest to incorporate.

When he got out of the shower though and pulled himself into the fresh sweats she had left on the vanity, they didn't stop.

It had started out as a messy mind map on a sheet of paper. He whined about it, having to let his muse resort to writing on paper. How very unrefined.

She told him to shut up and she would put it all on his digital murder board when they had locked down all the new details. They had thrown ideas at each other, argued, drafted timelines, evidence, even key questions for the interrogations until Alexis had arrived home, taken one look at the explosion of paper that had surrounded the two camped out on the office floor, and sent her home.

Even a hot bath at 1.30 that morning hadn't been able to shut off her brain. Even through the fog of exhaustion this morning, she couldn't bring herself to believe that the reluctance she had felt last night to leave, go home and sleep had been strong enough to rival her commitment to legitimate cases.

She could see how Castle, being a writer by profession, would have been driven out of his house in an attempt to quiet the rush of possible information in his head. Once again she felt that deep urge to take all those pieces of paper, not unlike her mother's board at home, and put them together – to force some resolution and clarity into them.

She couldn't hold back the thrill she felt when she saw him, even though he was only holding one cup of coffee.

She wanted to tell him about all the things that had forced themselves on her consciousness. In the bath, possible lines and conversations were playing themselves out. Even more so when she finally let herself turn out the light.

"Castle," she smiled.

"Hey," he grinned back at her and extended the coffee to her. "I thought you might need it."

"I've been drinking the old stuff all morning," she admitted. "What are you doing in today?"

"Alexis couldn't take it anymore and kicked me out."

"Ah." Suddenly after last night, it was very understandable.

"So, I was wondering if you had any plans for tonight? There hasn't been a body drop, right?"

"No. We're just working on some old cases at the moment."

"Would you be willing to help me kill and arrest people after hours?" he had a hopeful look on his face and she couldn't help but release the smile she had been holding back all morning.

"I would."

He beamed and made to reply until he was interrupted from a shout out from the elevator.

"Hey, Castle!"

Even though he had turned to face the guys and she couldn't see the smile itself, she could see the wrinkles deepening on the side of his face.

It was cute the way the boys were so happy to see each other after just a day. They had never said anything, but she knew they had been concerned when _Frozen Heat_ was released as the last in the contract. They hadn't even bothered to act tough when they heard that it had been extended.

They all had a lot to drink that night.

"What you doing here?" Esposito clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thought you might like to sign my latest accessory. I was assured that red was the height of fashion, so I don't want any complaints."

"I didn't think they even consulted adults. That's just for kids."

"What? No it's not!"

"Kinda is." Ryan glanced between them.

Castle looked offended. "So not true, and just for that I am going to offer the Captain prime real estate on the top next to Beckett which I had reserved for you two." It was her colleagues' turn to look offended. "Maybe she'll draw a cool set of formidable looking, iron-wrought gates."

"And maybe I won't," came the dry voice from behind them. They turned to look at her, Castle looking decidedly more abashed than the rest of them.

"Mr. Castle, Ryan and Esposito informed me of your little accident yesterday."

"I'm fine Captain, I'll be back in no ti… I am back."

"There was absolutely no hurry," she assured him blandly. "But since you're here you can help those two write the incident report."

"Actually, Sir, writing isn't really possible," he shrugged his arm pointedly.

She stared at him for a long second before turning to Beckett who was watching the exchange with a small smile.

"He isn't ambidextrous?"

"Apparently not."

"I trust you've learnt how to forge his signature, Detective?"

"Yes, Sir," she didn't even blink.

Gates nodded in apparent satisfaction, though the quirk of her lips was suspicious and turned to walk away.

"Captain?" Castle called. "I'd settle for just a signature?"

The retreating figure never slowed but her voice floated back to them. "We'll see."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"_He isn't ambidextrous?" _

"_Apparently not."_

"_I trust you've learnt how to forge his signature, Detective?"_

"_Yes, Sir," she didn't even blink._

_Gates nodded in apparent satisfaction, though the quirk of her lips was suspicious and turned to walk away._

"_Captain?" Castle called. "I'd settle for just a signature?" _

_The retreating figure never slowed but her voice floated back to them. "We'll see."_

**OOOO**

He didn't know why he had let her help. He had said himself that the dictation program was serviceable at least, and it was. At least , enough to tide him and Black Pawn over until he was able to write properly.

Maybe it had been the sound of her voice.

When his eyes had been closed, both against the glaring enamel of the bath and in relaxation as she ran her fingers through his hair, the tones in her voice couldn't be hidden. The vulnerability and want weren't off-put by bravado or a teasing smile.

She really meant it, and he never could deny her anything.

He both wanted to carefully hide her away from Nikki and Rook's world, keeping that as his own but also simultaneously wanted to draw her in as deep as she had penetrated all aspects of his life for years.

Despite these grounds for indecision, he didn't really see how dictating to her would be any different to dictating to a machine, other than the meals before and dessert after. But he was rarely right when it came to Beckett.

Dictating to her wasn't even remotely comparable to the computer program.

He certainly got sidetracked. Not by the sound of his voice and the words which would have been acceptable on paper but seemed tinny out loud.

No, he kept getting caught up in her expressions as she typed. Quirks of eyebrows and her mouth. Little frowns. Puffs of air as she tried not to chuckle. Even the speed of her typing, slow and rhythmic or fast and eager for him to continue.

And when he didn't get any reaction for more than a paragraph, no matter how tired they were, he knew he needed to lift his game.

Just another way to add to the growing list of ways he was sure Kate Beckett would kill him one day.

Being a very discerning, demanding reader.

And he had managed to get the information out of her. She had it easier getting confessions of murder and affairs than he did getting her to admit exactly how many of his books she had read.

He was quite proud of his achievement. More so that she hadn't seen through his attempts to gently shepherd the conversation until he already had the information he wanted. Obviously he had picked up some high level skills watching her interrogate and manipulate people in the box.

He had known for a long time she had read his work, but he didn't know how much of it, or how well she had read it. To that end, he had deliberately fallen back on lines, even the same characters as minors from his other novels.

And she frowned every time. He was delighted. She didn't miss a single reference, no matter how far back he went or how irrelevant.

She had read them all. Multiple times.

It was nearly as gratifying that it took her two days of these hints to say something about it. She was letting him lead. It surprised him though that even here, in his world, he didn't want her to follow. He wanted his partner. The way her mind worked…that would make a hell of a story. He had admitted that when they started planning this thing.

If he played his cards right, he might actually get her to help him write it rather than just critique it.

"Okay, what is that face for?" he demanded.

"What face?" he expected denial, but she looked genuinely perplexed.

"You keep getting this frown on your face."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," he insisted. "What's the matter, don't you like it?"

"Like what?"

He leaned over to where he could clearly see the screen, crowding her. "I believe you started frowning at 'Heat cursed aloud and chucked the useless half on the passenger-side floor mat'."

"Well then, that would make sense."  
"What?" he schooled his face into indignation. "Why?"

"You used that line in _Naked Heat_."

"I'm sure you're just imagining it," he scoffed, inwardly poking her in the side to react.

"I thought you were the one with the imagination you can't control," she set aside the laptop and pulled herself away from him.

This is not where he saw this going. "Kate?"

She kept walking, though thankfully in the direction of the office rather than the front door. A nervous thirty seconds later, she reemerged with a copy of _Naked Heat_ and was flipping to the front.

"Castle, that is quoting directly from the first page. Now if I knew that, you should too."

"You memorized the first page?" I knew it!  
"No," she looked defensive.

"Yes, you did. One normal, short sentence like that, and you flipped right to the page and found it."

"Look, I haven't memorized anything. I've just read that page a few times."  
He could have taken that victory and teased her about her admission, but decided to go all in. "Because it's Nikki Heat?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No."

"Because it's one of my novels?"

"What? No."

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining why you recognized everything I've recycled so far?"

She closed the book with a muted snap. "You set me up?"

She was most dangerous when she was quiet.

"Just a little."

She continued to stare at him.

"I just wanted to know exactly how big a fan of mine you are."

Her eyes weren't nearly as hard as her face at his admission so he continued. "Now I know you've not only read almost every book I've ever read, but you've read them all multiple times. You're worse than Ryan."

Her chin came up. "So, by your logic, there is something wrong with being a fan of your work."

"No," he back pedaled. "You're trying to put words in my mouth."  
"So there's no problem?"

"Problem, are you kidding?"

"Then I shouldn't hear about it ever again," she concluded smugly.

"Oh come on, Beckett," he protested.

"Castle," she sighed.

"If you don't tell me, I'll assume you're an embarrassing super fan. I know you subscribed to my website. "

"Assume away."  
"Please, Kate."

"Fine. I have read all your books. I had read them before I met you."

"How long?"

"Over thirteen years."

He expected her to look sad at this, sad would have been a Wal-Mart way to sum up the way the news made him feel, but she said it without inflection and there was no trace of anything darker in her yes. On the contrary, they were warm, as if it didn't bother her to make the parallel between his works and the traumatic events that occurred that year.

He took her hand since she was still standing just off his side, as much for him as for her and more an apology than either.

"I don't mind," she offered. "I would have read them anyway. She would have insisted on that. As a lawyer, her idea of a break was to go and try and figure out what led the people she met to where they were in life. She always wanted to know why."

"Is that why you started reading them? For answers?"

"No," she slid back in next to him. "I read them for justice, and I read them for her. Still do."

He looked down at her hand which she hadn't removed and wondered again at her strength. That she was able to see his writing as a silver lining.

"So was there a reason behind your questioning, or was this just classic Castle curiosity?"

He shrugged and returned his attention to her face, relieved to see her eyes were still light and her head was tilted to one side with her own curiosity.

"You're a good reader."

"You knew I read," she smiled.

"I knew you read, but I didn't know you could write."

"What makes you think I can write?"

"Because you know what _not_ to write. You have good instincts. High standards. "

"You better not be saying that just because you found out I read your books."

He couldn't restrain a grin. "No, I'm not. And don't worry, my mother has assured me my works are hardly Shakespeare," his face fell into seriousness and he cupped a hand around his mouth as if he was about to impart her with a secret. "It's her job to keep me grounded."

She couldn't help but let out a short laugh at his woebegone expression as he finished his confession.

"I'm sure she takes her job very seriously."

"Oh yes. Very seriously."

She shook her head in amusement.

"But seriously," he looked properly sober again. "You trust me with a gun, and I trust you with words. Any time you have an idea, let me know."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. If you're going to have to help me plan this and type it, you should get to write some of it." He took in her stunned expression. "If you want."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"_But seriously," he looked properly sober again. "You trust me with a gun, and I trust you with words. Any time you have an idea, let me know."_

"_Seriously?"_

"_Seriously. If you're going to have to help me plan this and type it, you should get to write some of it." He took in her stunned expression. "If you want."_

**OOOO**

"Hey, Beckett?"

"Hmm?" She didn't bother to look up from the laptop screen even when he dropped down onto the couch next to her making both her and the computer bounce. Knowing him, he was just going to point out another typing error - he had been meticulous about them for the last week and a half which had seen her at the loft almost every night after their shift.

"Are you a spontaneous, hot sex kind of a girl or more of a planned, romantic sex kind of girl?"

She almost managed to choke on air.

"You know, if you had a choice?" he continued when her eyes shot to his completely serious face. "Because you know, I'm good for either."

Her body was reacting faster than her mind could recover; she barely had enough brain cells still functioning to feel what had to be one of the most stunning blushes she had experienced in her life.

When all she did was blink at him he elaborated. "I get that up against the door, or on the couch in the heat of the moment, hell even the shower, would be amazing. But don't you think that might be a little boring for us? It's kind of expected even, so I was thinking of a way we could do it differently."

Higher brain functioning still at a little above zero. Generous estimate.

"Anyway, it occurred to me that no one really does the slow, planned seduction anymore. But what do you think? I don't know if that would really appeal to you."

He had no idea.

"Castle," she started, her voice so low she didn't even recognise it.

"It just seems to me that we're past the frantic and ready for something a little more meaningful. Long kisses and gentle foreplay." He took a lock of her hair in his free hand and began playing with it, a far away look on his face. "I think there is something to be said for taking it slow sometimes. Not candles and flowers and romantic dinner slow, just deliberate slow." He looked at her flushed face, only now seeming to realize he had been fondling her hair for the last minute.

"Castle," she cleared her throat as discreetly as she could, "I think…"

"Kate, I know she likes hot and fast, but there are other types of heat and I think she might actually love Rook enough now to explore a little of that with him, don't you?"

Rook. Nikki.

Castle you bastard, trying to give me a heart attack.

"You don't like it?"

Her first instinct was to yell at him and express exactly what she thought. There was no way he was completely innocent and hadn't interpreted her blush as anything other than what it was. He had been teasing her, deliberately leading her in her misunderstanding.

His expression now wasn't at all teasing or even smug, he seemed genuinely interested in her opinion on her alter-ego's sex life.

Writing the first scene in the book was hard enough, and all she had done was listen to his voice in her ear, telling her what to write. She had been conflicted enough, that aside from some wording issues, she hadn't changed the scene at all. It was if he was dictating one of her own fantasies back to her.

And now he was practically asking her which of her fantasies she enjoyed more, because when it came to Castle, she had them all.

But this was a little outside her experience. The sharing thing. Even the talking like she might actually get it, in any shape or form.

"As a matter of fact Castle," she admitted. "You might be right. I think she trusts him enough to let go."

He beamed. "Great. So slow seduction? I kind of want to tease her."

Her frown was completely involuntary. "She has a limit, Castle."

"Ah, but that's where I think you're wrong, Detective. What we're working towards here is that, when it comes to Rook, she doesn't have a limit."

"You sound pretty sure of that."

"I am. They can't stay where they are indefinitely. They are changing, especially thanks to some of your input. This would be the next logical step for them."

"So you want to show her letting go, and trusting Rook?"

"Yes."

She studied him but he didn't falter. He wanted this and she admitted it made sense.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Really," she told him. It was what she herself would love to do. Writing it would make for practice of sorts, not unlike writing a letter with her therapist. She could allow herself to trust Castle completely, even through this indirect method. His smile stretched his face at her permission. There was no way she could have refused it, not that she would have: it was his book. He could put whatever he wanted in it.

"So did you have any ideas for this seduction?" she asked, getting ready to type. When he didn't answer she looked up at him and found him still happily smiling.

"Castle?"

"Right. Ideas."

"Yeah," she raised her eyebrows, waiting.

He opened his mouth but stopped himself before any words made it out. He frowned slightly and she looked at him questioningly.

"Castle?"

"I can't decide."

"Decide what?"

"I can't just pick one way that I would seduce…Nikki."

She picked up on the way he deliberately omitted 'you'.

"You can't seriously have that many plans floating around in your head," she scoffed.

"Oh, so you have one perfect seduction scene, do you?" he challenged.

Her mouth worked, but she didn't know how she was supposed to answer that one. Telling him the truth would only prove him right: over the last four years, she had imagined so many seduction scenes, it was near impossible to pick a favorite. Especially if he might use it against her at a later date.

Her silence spoke for itself.

"I knew it," he sounded triumphant.

"Shut up," she groused, trying to keep her composure. She had already reached her limit on blushes today. This week.

"So here's what I thought we could do," he waited until she focused her attention on him again. "We take two days, and we each write our own scene. We compare and go from there."

"Two days."

"That should be enough. If work picks up, of course the deadline shifts."

"You're serious."

"Yes. Yes I am."

"You're deranged," she muttered, resentful that he had already roped her into this.

"Ah, but I'm not deaf."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"_You're serious."_

"_Yes. Yes I am."_

"_You're deranged," she muttered, resentful that he had already roped her into this._

"_Ah, but I'm not deaf."_

**OOOO**

They picked up a double homicide and it was a week before they had time to have another writing night.

As a consequence, she spent a week using her free moments to imagine Castle dragging her away from everyone to dark corners and enclosed rooms. It had made sense, with Rook shadowing Nikki this time and spending so much time at the precinct.

Unfortunately, after she had allowed herself to speculate even once, the fingers of obsession- which writing and planning had quickly become- closed in on her and she found her mind wandering straight back to it as soon as her full attention wasn't required. And damn it if Castle's eyes weren't following her all day, thinking the same thoughts.

She had walked in on enough of her colleagues and heard even more to know more about the unmonitored corners of the precinct than she ever wanted to know. Until now.

You'd think that a police station would have a lot of security.

You'd be right.

There was no way she or Nikki would be slinking off during working hours. But wanting what she couldn't have? That was a manner of seduction in itself: the anticipation and the opportunities to drive your partner as close to the breaking point as you could.

It sounded like a lot of fun actually, even to write – until she remembered this time around Rook would be the one giving out hell.

Just as she recalled this Castle gave her a smirk.

Bastard.

When she finally escaped to her apartment, thinking she was free, her mind invariably relived the scenes from the prior books. She was a goner.

She couldn't even glance at her laptop as she ran out the door without blushing at the fantasies Castle's challenge had encouraged to sneak out of her carefully constructed Castle-box and wreak havoc with her consciousness.

...

"So, Detective, did you bring your scene?" he finished storing the last plate back in the cupboard as she dried her hands and re-hung the dishcloth.

She pulled the flash drive from her pocket and waved it at him. He bounced forward to take it from her and she handed it to him with a put-upon sigh. Inwardly, she was remarking how controlled he had been all night. However when he flounced towards the office rather than the lounge, she reached out and caught his sleeve.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go and print it out," he said matter-of-factly. "What name did you save it under?"

"Castle," she hissed. "You can't print it out."

"Why not?" he looked genuinely confused.

Her mouth opened a little. "What if Alexis finds it?"

"Why Beckett, is it too salacious for my daughter? I can not wait to see it." He pulled himself out of her grip and scurried for his printer leaving her gaping.

"You can go ahead and get started on mine while you wait," he called. "I recorded it with the program into the computer and printed out a copy for you."

They were exchanging love scenes. There had to be something wrong with this.

She made her way somewhat helplessly over to the couch and saw the papers beside the laptop. It was a good ten pages.

"Beckett?"

"Mmm?" she realised he probably wouldn't have heard that from the other room.

He continued on regardless. "What was it called?"

"Punishment," she called back a little louder.

She could hear his grumbling, though she had a suspicion it started to disguise a laugh. She had no doubt that he would find the file she had saved as 'Homework'. She should have named it punishment.

His good natured grumbling persisted until he made his way back into the room with her flash drive and the chapter.

"You started reading yet?"

"No. I was waiting for you." Procrastinating.

It occurred to her when he was right in front of her, that he was a speed reader and would finish her smaller scene much faster than she could his. And of course he was going to watch her read the love scene. Looks like her mother was right when she told her that procrastination would only turn around and bite you in the ass.

Like she needed his eyes on her when she was going to be picturing the scene for the first time.

But to her surprise, as if aware of the potential awkwardness of the situation, rather than taking his now customary seat against her side, he opted for the oversized arm chair off to the side of the couch.

She choked back the irrational discomfort at this new dynamic in favor of relief: she wasn't comfortable with proximity for this, because despite the different names, that scene was all them. She felt a sneaking lack of confidence and anxiety as he picked up her pages.

What had she been thinking? He was a best-seller. Like her work could ever impress him.

And now in retrospect, it was painfully honest.

His eyes traversed the page with alarming speed, snapping back home like a typewriter with the same regular rhythm. She found herself studying his face, hoping for any indication as to what he thought of it, but it stayed carefully focused as he put down page after page.

She watched on tender-hooks and marveled sourly at the nervous tension. Maybe being a writer wasn't as easy as she thought, even when the words were committed. You got invested them, and protective.

She watched as his speed began to decrease, but noted that his breathing had picked up ever so slightly and a red flush on his neck.

And suddenly she wasn't waiting for a review, she was a voyeur. Had she really been watching him this whole time?

She snatched up his pages and headed for the kitchen, hypocritically hoping to read through as much of his scene as she could before he came and found her. She took their mugs out and put the coffee machine on as she passed, knowing it would stall him before settling on the bar stool.

She took a steadying breath, and started, both hoping and dreading being pulled in to a brand new, completely unfamiliar Richard Castle chapter.

OOO

She found herself seduced by the scene, aching with Nikki, but without the fulfillment. It wasn't that the scene was hot, because most of it was not, or at least not overtly. The majority of it wasn't even technically a love scene. It started as a pleasant, everyday warmth and somehow built the fire with no fuel at all. Or no extra fuel.

It was just them- startlingly and awkwardly open and loving. Neither deliberately leading, but both going somewhere together.

His seduction wasn't just about one night. He was letting Rook seduce Nikki into a life – their life.

When she put down the last page, she wrapped her fingers around the mug he had put at her elbow as she read and stared at the milky contents. She was aware of him sitting quietly the next stool over.

She had failed. She should have known not to take the word seduction at face value, especially when she knew what Castle had wanted this scene to accomplish.

"I'm too late," she said quietly. "Aren't I?"

He seemed to know better than to be anything but completely truthful. "It would have made a perfect scene in an earlier book. Even as the first scene in this book."

"But?"

"But, Nikki's still limited."

She knew that. Because it wasn't Nikki and Rook in that scene. It was them. And she was limited.

"How do you do it?" it was a whisper, but she knew he would hear her.

His blue eyes were soft. "I write to help them from A to B, and hope we can make it to Z. We just keep moving forward. I let them rest a little, even try and sidestep every now and again but we always ultimately move forward."

"And you always know when it's time?"

"They're as human as you and I. No one's time can stop forever."

"Even if it's not safe for them? It'll be hard," she dropped her eyes away from his too clear gaze. "You might not know what to write."

"Then that would be a sign that I'm doing something right."

Her eyes lifted to him again, and she could feel her frustration and a little desperation in them.

"Just because they're fictional, it doesn't make their life any easier, Kate. Making them continue on is the difference between readers and writers."

_You're already moving. Baby steps at a time. _

**I was thinking of posting the chapter/scene Castle wrote as a separate story, probably tomorrow.**

**Collaboration: Castle's seduction**


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.

Collaboration

**OOOO**

"They're as human as you and I. No one's time can stop forever."

"Even if it's not safe for them? It'll be hard," she dropped her eyes away from his too clear gaze. "You might not know what to write."

"Then that would be a sign that I'm doing something right."

Her eyes lifted to him again, and she could feel her frustration and a little desperation in them.

"Just because they're fictional, it doesn't make their life any easier, Kate. Making them continue on is the difference between readers and writers."

_You're already moving. Baby steps at a time. _

**OOOO**

She had been so busy typing from the set of notes he had left with the dictation program that she hadn't even noticed when he had first fallen asleep.

Sometimes he would dictate for her. That's how it had started. He had spent so long thinking about scenes when he was at the precinct that when they made it back to the loft they spent hours committing the ideas.

She spent all day at the precinct itching to get back to the loft because when she looked over at his chair as she did paperwork, she saw the squint and knew he was writing in his head. She looked forward to the new chapter. What random things had he managed to weave into today's work?

Not only that but she found herself wanting to write.

Her detective's habit of listening in to other people's conversations seemed to match his writer's curiosity, because some of the things she wondered at made guest appearances that night.

He had told her that she would make a good writer, that she had good instincts.

The more they wrote, the more fine tuned she became to his narrative and soon she began making suggestions, overcoming the remaining sense of failure.

The characters were so much closer to themselves this time around that she enjoyed writing the dialogue and Castle loved weaving her comebacks into the story.

He had asked her to write some of the police-only scenes. He gave her basic sentences to type and asked her to add any embellishments that would make them more authentic. And she did while he was content to read over shoulder and make comments.

Then there was the seduction scene. That was the first full chapter that she had written by herself.

Baby steps. That was what he wrote on her pages.

And he had promised that we was going to use the scene somehow.

Because it was too hot not to use. Heat from the real Heat.

She had yet to see how he had edited and combined it with his own version, though they had talked over them both and she had a rough idea. As much as she wanted to read the final result, and see the combination of their words and ideas, he was always just off her shoulder, and she wasn't going to read it with him right there.

He probably did it deliberately, hoping to catch her reactions when she inevitably found it.

Since then she had been writing increasing amounts. His dictation had slowed as he read over her shoulder, watching to see what words she changed and what sentences of her own she incorporated before he continued.

Last week, she had taken a night off to have a girl's night with Lanie, but found herself scribbling lines on a napkin, leaving Lanie watching her with something like concern and much more like humor.

Most nights they settled on the couch, with the laptop on her knees and her angled into his chest so she was comfortable and he could read. When she doubted his genius she also learnt that it put her on a perfect position for him to tickle. This was never appreciated.

The fact that he could only do it one handed was very much appreciated. How he knew her spots already, she didn't know.

At other times she would just hold on as he unleashed his creative genius to start bringing the whole thing together. She worked scene to scene, but he worked large. He was always urging her to add some comment which she would argue and rework to flow into the current chapter. The next chapter she would see the way it linked and foreshadowed.

In the end, she stopped arguing and let herself be flexible. It was a lot better than actually telling him he was right.

She thought back to the last time she had heard him talk. They had been talking about the last action scene in the book; he had been moaning about a review which had said that his scenes were unoriginal.

She replied that it was a comment made by one of Martha's friends.

They had been throwing around possible scenarios: a gun was the easiest, but the most clichéd. She informed him just how many people were attacked, held hostage by and killed by guns, and assured him it wasn't clichéd; it was accurate.

But he had set his chin and announced that there weren't going to be any guns or knives or explosions. He was going to prove everyone wrong.

And had fallen asleep.

Both of them had their feet up on the coffee table, a habit she had never been able to kick and he seemed to have picked up. Alexis hadn't looked very pleased the first time she caught them. One of his feet slid half way off, jerking her.

She sighed and looked up at him from where she was tucked away into his side but he didn't wake.

He was a heavy sleeper apparently. He hadn't started snoring yet, a habit of his she had discovered weeks ago. She had been tempted to use that against him for the bigger piece of pie at dessert, but was worried he might have noticed that she had dribbled a little on him.

Beckett let herself examine his relaxed face for a second longer before looking back down at the pages she had typed since he had fallen quiet. She had gotten caught up in the scene and had started typing quietly while he took a break with the TV.

She wondered when he had stopped following her words.

Because in front of her was the final takedown scene in the book they hadn't named yet. It had guns. But more than that, it was a confession.

No more baby steps.

It should have been from Nikki's point of view but instead she found herself writing Rook. Rook watching the scene spin out of his control and watching Nikki take a stand alone.

She had wanted to help, to fight, so badly.

So did Rook.

But this time what kept both her and Rook locked into immobility was a more insinuating helplessness: PTSD.

She had locked herself into Rook's point of view, into the scene with him so tightly that she felt her chest tighten in the familiar sensation of panic.

Because there was no way Rook could have taken that bullet and not have PTSD. She wasn't even sure of the source of his anxiety. Because Nikki was being shot at, or because he was reliving his own shooting?

But this wasn't his story and it wasn't hers. It was Nikki's and she wouldn't have PTSD, would she?

No. Nikki Heat was a perfect, kick ass cop.

She closed the laptop softly and gently extricated herself from Castle.

What was she doing?

OOOO

She felt like she was going out of her skin the next morning waiting for him to arrive. She hadn't even managed to try and convince herself that he might not come in today; he hadn't missed a day in the last three weeks since he had broken his hand.

Every time she heard the elevator stop or felt a presence too close she would look up and treat herself to a somersault of relief when she confirmed it wasn't him.

Because she couldn't keep doing this and she didn't want to have to tell him.

By the time he did make his appearance she was almost glad despite her trepidation, because she wasn't sure her nerves could take the waiting anymore.

His hand had improved enough that he wasn't in his sling and he was able to use his hand to support two cups in the palm of his good hand.

He gave greetings to the bullpen, laughing with the boys before he stood at her shoulder and waited for her to take one of the cups so he could sit down.

"No," he told her as she took the more precariously perched of the two. "That one is mine."

"Oh, sorry," she set it down next to his elbow and took the other.

"I didn't hear you leave last night," he offered as she went to take a sip, hoping to get rid of the sudden sourness in her mouth.

"Yeah, sorry. I was pretty tired," she set the cup down and tried to look at him evenly despite the sudden overworking of her throat. "I tried to wake you but you sleep like the dead."

"So, I've been told. So what do you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of attempting salmon as my one handed-fry pan skills have been certified. Alexis said my pancakes this morning were perfect."

"Actually we caught a break on that cold case, so I'm not going to be able to make it."

All of the fresh cases they caught had been easy solves meaning they had been spending more time on some of the older unsolved. She almost wished for a fresh new case that would keep them all busy and Castle sufficiently side-tracked.

"Oh. Well, thanks to you I'm actually ahead of all my deadlines for a change, so a few days won't make any difference."

"Great," she forced a smile and made a quick exit for Ryan and Esposito's desk.

She had a week to think of a good reason as to why she couldn't help him anymore.

OOOO

Kate avoided him for a week about writing. The first two days he had tried to engage her in the break room and she had tried to tamp down the interest she felt at all the new ideas he was sharing. There were so many, she wasn't sure how he ever eliminated them.

For three weeks they had been extending their breaks, kicking around lines, planning the action scenes play by play, even bickering over clothing and meal choices. It was so hard for her now to feign only a token interest.

But eventually it worked.

The enthusiasm which had him so high began to sag and he slowly stopped talking. Not just about his book, but in general he went quiet despite her attempts to remain as light and normal with him as normal in all other parts of their days together.

He didn't stay and help her with paperwork though he was as hands-on as ever in the interrogations and wading through evidence.

Thankfully it was more of a distracted silence than a hurt silence. She hoped her instincts were right, because the last thing she wanted to do was loose Castle over this.

But on Thursday he didn't come in at all and he didn't message her.

She put aside her pride which dictated she would never chase him, and sent a text just after lunch asking if he was coming in or not.

A few minutes later her screen lit up with an incoming call from him.

"Hey, Castle."

"Yeah, hi. Sorry for the call but texting, even on my smart-phone, still isn't very fun."  
"Yeah, I know. Sorry if I caught you at the wrong time. You're not in a meeting are you?"

Please be in a meeting and you're not just ignoring me.

"No, no meeting. I just got caught up with something at home. I don't think I'll be able to make it in today."

"Is everything okay?"

"If you consider my Mother rehearsing her lines in the living room okay, then yes. Any breaks on the case?"

"The boys are bringing in the neighbor's son for questioning this afternoon. His best friend has a pet snake which matched the venom. "

"Shut the front door! That's not fair."

"You snooze you loose, Castle."

"That was uncalled for," he protested and she felt herself breathing easier at his light tone.

"Okay, well I better go and start prepping."

"I'll be in tomorrow for sure," he assured her. "I want to hear all the details."

"I think that could be arranged."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

Collaboration

**NB: Thanks for the reviews so far. **

**I'm nowhere near as good as Richard Castle, so bear with his chapter included here.**

**OOOO**

_"Shut the front door! That's not fair."_

_"You snooze you loose, Castle."_

_"That was uncalled for," he protested and she felt herself breathing easier at his light tone._

_"Okay, well I better go and start prepping."_

_"I'll be in tomorrow for sure," he assured her. "I want to hear all the details."_

_"I think that could be arranged."_

**OOOO**

"So have you found the snake?"

She rolled her eyes at his transparent attempt at nonchalance. "Actually, we did."

"We found the little guy buried under one of the pot plants on the balcony." Ryan supplied.

"That was its lair?" They like to burrow, he recalled.

"No. It was stolen remember?"

"Oh, right," he paused. "You didn't bring it in as evidence did you?"

He meant it as a joke but when her small smile didn't falter he shot uncertain looks at the boys. They had evil grins on their faces.

"You're kidding," he looked between the detectives and the boys both just shook their heads.

"Really? Beckett, that thing killed someone."

"Which is why we have it in evidence."

"But you know, it's locked away securely, right? In a nice thick tank somewhere."

"It's in a plastic bag," Ryan assured him with a pat on his shoulder.

"A plastic bag? So you're trying to suffocate it?"

They all just shook their heads at his reaction.

"What?" his eyes bounced around their semi-circle.  
"Castle, it's dead." Beckett told him firmly.

"Dead," he repeated.

"I think you can work that part out for yourself."

"But how?" he looked to Ryan and Esposito for information

"When our perp was done with it, he bashed it over the head and buried it under his mother's pansies." Esposito supplied.

Castle let out a whistling breath. "And you couldn't have led with that?"

"We're sorry, bro," he shrugged. "We didn't think a little snake would bother you."

"It doesn't!"

Beckett raised both eyebrows and he looked down at the desk.

"Much," he amended.

Ryan and Esposito gave each other a high five and drifted back towards their desks, still chuckling. He looked over at his partner, expecting her to have a similar look on her face, but she was looking at the bag he had deposited in his chair.

From the anxious look on her face, she knew what it was.

He had given her space for a week, thinking perhaps she just needed some time. Sometimes when he wrote about something too close, he needed some time to re-distance himself. He waited for a week for her to bring it up by herself, but she never did.

He had considered not bringing up their new partnership again, but his selfishness had won over. He liked writing with her. She pushed him further every time and he could honestly say that he hadn't enjoyed writing this much since his first attempts at creative writing back at school. Even his first novels when everything was still fresh, he was too concerned about getting published to let go and enjoy the writing the way he had the last three weeks until Kate had stopped.

That and he had to tell her how proud he was of the last scene she had written.

He had never seen anything like it- he knew because he had tried.

She had the courage to write what he didn't.

"My laptop," he offered unnecessarily.

She gave him a weak smile and sat down. He could see her preparing herself to avoid the moment with work, so he headed her off.

"Actually, yesterday I was doing some writing with that program and was hoping you'd be able to have a look for me and offer your opinion."

"I'm sure it's fine, Castle."

"I don't want it to just be fine."

She looked up, desperate and clearly hoping he wouldn't push it. "I don't think I can help you Castle."

"Just read it for me. That's all I ask."

He set it up in the conference room, closing the doors and letting the blinds down, but not shutting them. He knew this was hardly an encouraging sight but he wanted her to have some privacy.

When he had finished his preparations, he woke his computer up and quickly re-read the chapter he had written for her.

He didn't look up at the sound of her heels or even when he heard the door click behind her. When he felt her heat settle just off his shoulder, he stood up leaving the seat free for her and moved to look through the spaces in the blinds at the bullpen. The last thing she needed was the pressure of his observation.

Would she see the seeds of her own work in it? As much as he had wanted to use her chapter and leave it pristine, it was too personal to be public, and it wasn't Rook's story to tell.

It had taken him a long time to find ways to incorporate it though. Kate and Rook may have been shot, but it figured that he wasn't alone in his pain either. There was no way Nikki would be perfectly fine with her partner in the line of fire again. He sure as hell wasn't.

Maybe if Kate read this, she would understand, that she wasn't the only one whose adrenaline levels spiked at a reflected flash of light. The sound of gunshots which should be everyday, had her sweating and breathing around a weight on her chest.

Because he did too.

No one was superhuman. She wasn't weak.

That she even had the courage to write what she had was amazing. He felt he owed it to her to write the scene and be as truthful as she had. He had watched her get shot and he sure as hell wasn't okay with it. It made sense Nikki would be in the same boat, especially when Rook had taken that bullet in her place.

He wanted to acknowledge their shared experience but he also wanted to keep her safe, especially from herself when she was so demanding.

Even flawed, especially flawed she was…every writer's dream.

_OOOOOOO_

_This was not the most dangerous situation she had been in. Not even the most dangerous this week if you were simply to compare the statistics. Two, well one and a half if she allowed for Rook in the equation, against a single opponent. _

_But despite these sunny seeming odds, the panic- the terror running through her now had no parallel. Not even in rookie standoffs had she been this terrified._

_She was experienced; she could keep herself alive long enough for help to arrive with any luck. But Rook was in the room somewhere, undefended and incapacitated with stress and panic._

_She couldn't lose him. The thought made her stomach twist and her heart rate kicked up further. She couldn't watch him die on her again. _

_Another statistic to add to the growing panic in her own mind: there was a trained killer in the room. She didn't know where. If that wasn't bad enough she couldn't even bluster or force him into revealing his position and give her a target. Their camera-shy suspect knew better than that. _

_She wished now that she hadn't picked up Rook's ridiculous nick-name for their man for hire- not that they had manage to glean his true identity. What kind of name was Camera-shy for a professional hitman? A smart one at that. He never got caught by surveillance and he didn't expend any unnecessary energy. There was no long winded monologue. No back and forth. Nothing. She couldn't hear a single sound in the room, not even her own breathing._

_She didn't know where Mr. C.S was and she didn't know where Rook was. _

_She knew it was the latter of the two that had her jumping half out of her skin because there was a very real chance that she would shoot at the next person she saw move and it might be him. He had been breathing when she last saw him, right before she opened the door on this new threat. But now, crouched behind the sofa where she had left him, she was alone. _

_Camera-shy would be on the move, hunting them like the proverbial sitting duck. She couldn't stay here: the worn fabric covering of her couch would offer no resistance to the bullets she knew were coming. Taking a quick survey of her living room and kitchen she tried to map the ways Rook could have moved without too much danger. The most secure, though not the closest was the island in the kitchen, allowing both escape and shelter. She hoped that's where Rook had maneuvered himself to. _

_Strategically, that would give her a breather but she knew their assailant would be counting on it. He would be waiting for her to expose herself and break for the dubious safety of the kitchen._

_But predictable or not, there was little shelter anywhere else and she wasn't sure how much longer their silent stalker was going to be content playing cat and mouse._

_She made another mental survey of the room, cursing her decision not to get carpet laid when she had moved in. Not only was it cold in winter and hard under her back when she and Rook loved, it made any footfall echo in the brick apartment. Sliding was slow and would have her jeans scraping noisily. She could only find comfort in knowing it went both ways. Camera-shy had been in heavy boots when he slipped a foot between the door she tried to slam on him and the frame. Maybe he had taken them off. _

_If only she knew where the hell they were._

_She couldn't believe Rook was still moving. It was too quiet. God, he was a sitting duck. She almost gagged on the image of Camera-shy finding Rook. He would not hesitate to kill him. _

_Rook would be faced with another gun. _

_A flash reflected off her wine chiller; the glass refracting the light above as the door opened and closed. _

_That had to be Rook surely. The other man in the apartment would never give away his position._

_Which meant that somehow Rook was still holding it together. Probably more than half insane with panic, but he was still moving to defend himself. She had to hope that was the case and their man wasn't trying to lure her out. _

_She decided it was worth the risk. He was worth the risk. _

_Because despite the loathing and shame Rook felt when he fell to pieces, he had guts. And she wasn't going to let anything happen to him again. _

_She tensed herself for the dash between her tenuous shelter and the kitchen island. She had to do it now while none of the other occupants thought she would make her move. Her instincts told her to plan first, wait for evidence. The aim was to get there safely._

_Predictable. Too predictable._

_When her opponent knew her playbook, predictable was a polite way of saying dead._

_Without further thought she squeezed off two rounds into the dividing partition she suspected was covering Camera-shy and ran for the kitchen island. It would be a dead give-away, but at least when he went to shoot, she would learn his location. _

_She didn't bother keeping her body low as training had drilled into her head, an act which proved wise as a bullet nicked the front of her thigh- exactly where her head would have been had she followed protocol. She didn't give him a chance to correct his aim before she slid across the hard-wood floors to collide with Rook. _

_He was pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat, his eyes wide and stunned but he held her large carving knife in one hand and a bottle of champagne that he had bought in the other._

_She didn't even have time to express her relief that he was unharmed and functioning before the apartment exploded under open fire. Her earlier shots had alerted the neighbors and now both parties knew each other's locations._

_It made sense that Camera-shy no longer felt any need for caution, and unlike her, she doubted he had any need to conserve ammunition. _

_The crash and tinkle of glass over their heads never failed to make her flinch. She hadn't been steady around gunfire since Rook's accident. He was plastered against her side, hunched in on himself and she felt herself rocked as his gasping breaths pushed and pulled against her. _

"_Behind the wall," she whispered. _

_If she poked her nose around to shoot he would blow it off her face._

_Rook nodded, and handed her the knife. She felt her face contort in confusion. _

"_Parascope." He breathed unsteadily. His eyes communicated what he couldn't: trust me._

_They were running out of time and he was so determined she held it in front of her, angling it until she could see herself; maneuvering it until she had a fair chance of a visual before it was shot out of her hand. _

_Beside her, Rook was fiddling loudly with the bottle, his hands shaking so badly she had to assume he was attempting to peel back the foil and open it. She considered warning him against the noise, something she didn't think she would have to tell someone who had used stealth to save his life so many times. _

_But she figured their positions were already blown. If he needed a drink to cope? Let the man drink._

_Though she wasn't sure how he was going to find the breath to drink when he was minutes away from hyperventilating. _

_Ten seconds had passed since the last bullet had passed and she knew C.S was moving. Before he had a chance to hide she extended the blade around the side of the bench like a side-mirror on her car and caught a sliver of clothing before it ducked in behind the couch._

_He couldn't afford to wait much longer and was advancing. _

"_The couch," she tried to sound calm for him despite her following statement. "I don't have a shot."_

_However, he just nodded and scooted away from her, looking sick. She looked at him in worried askance but he just started to shake the bottle._

"_Be ready." _

"_Rook," what the hell was he thinking? Not knowing sent her heart rate up another level. Please God, she couldn't lose any one else._

"_No, you've got this. I shoot, he'll shoot. He'll be exposed." _

_How he even got one word out at a time was beyond her because she couldn't even comprehend letting him walk into the path of another bullet. Couldn't even force out a simple 'no' when she was thinking more along the lines of 'don't you dare!'. _

_But damn him, he just gave her hand a squeeze and was already inching just back from the opposite edge of the island. _

_She watched his muscles tense, gearing to spring. His still bare feet gripped at the flooring and she brought her gun up._

_He didn't look back as he threw himself around and into view and she lurched around the other side just as she heard the cork's pop exploding across the room. _

_He stood, covered in champagne and she watched him stare straight at the man who had snaked out to return fire at his easy target._

_She had never seen anyone so stupid or so damn impressive as Rook in that second before her bullet tore through the trigger hand of Mr. C.S. _

_With disturbing speed C.S went to retrieve his weapon with his uninjured hand but Rook was already closing in on him. Rook's first swipe of the bottle was easily deflected, but Rook used the momentum of the block to add force to his leg and kick his one-handed opponent in the stomach before he could recover his guard. With an audible wheeze, C.S doubled at the waist and Rook brought the bottle firmly down on his head, ensuring he collapsed the rest of the way to the floor. _

_Heat kept her weapon trained on him for safety and Rook shakily grabbed at the small handgun he had dropped. She waited to cuff C.S until Rook took over her vigil, aiming the appropriated piece back at its owner._

"_Nice shooting," he said between rapid, hitching breaths._

_She just shook her head and reached for her phone, not sure what would come out of her mouth if she opened it now._

_She permitted herself a long exhale while she hit speed dial._

"_Hey, Och. Yeah, I'm going to need a bus and a unit back at my place. We found Camera-shy. Well actually, I'd say he found us."_

"_Nik. You should make that two buses," Rook looked pointedly at her leg. _

_She didn't even bother to debate that one. "Make that two unless you can pick up Lauren on your way."_

"_You okay, boss?"_

"_I'm fine. I just need a patch up job. And put in an APB on Boxwell, you should find him in the cemetery with a shovel."_

"_Do I want to know?"_

"_Let's just say Rook decided to let Boxwell do some of the digging for a change."_

_She didn't bother to hide her exasperated pride as she looked over to Rook who was still minding the sprawled out form on her living room floor._

_He was okay, the very simple truth was almost enough to make her laugh in sheer relief. It wasn't blood dampening his shirt. It was champagne. His chest wasn't heaving in an effort to breathe, it was in relief. He was catching his breath and the blood on her hands was her own. _

"_You got it. ETA fifteen."_

"_Thanks," she kept her eyes on Rook, still shaking a little both with how close she had come to losing him, but more with admiration. _

"_That was the best, worst feint I have ever seen," she told him when she replaced her phone in her pocket. _

_He returned with her favorite cheeky grin._

_Yeah. They were good. _

_OOOO_

He heard the laptop close and turned to face her, keeping his sweaty palms tight against his thighs in his pocket.

He hoped they were good.

Her expression was unreadable and she seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact, keeping her focus on a spot just above the laptop as she processed.

After a minute she scooted the chair back and walked past him for the door. The still guarded look on her face caused his throat to constrict slightly and had him silent as she brushed close by him.

"I found two typos, Castle."

"What?" he startled, automatically moving for the laptop. "Where?"

He lifted his head but she was already gone. On reflex he carefully rechecked the scene and then he checked it again.

He didn't see any typos.

**Would really appreciate reviews on this one.**

**Last chapter coming soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't

**Last chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**

…_After a minute she scooted the chair back and walked past him for the door. The still guarded look on her face caused his throat to constrict slightly and had him silent as she brushed close by him._

"_I found two typos, Castle."_

"_What?" he startled, automatically moving for the laptop. "Where?"_

_He lifted his head but she was already gone. On reflex he carefully rechecked the scene and then he checked it again. _

_He didn't see any typos. _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

…

"Richard Castle!"

The voice's explosion on his unconscious mind foreshadowed the pain that cracked through his face. It wasn't possible to see anything through the rapid blinking and blur of tears but there was no mistaking the throbbing in his nose.

Fortunately, the owner of said voice was not concerned with waiting for him identify them when he had recovered his sight.

"I knew there had to be a reason you were avoiding me. More than usual."

"Paula?" There was no mistaking that nasal voice, or the slight lisp. "What are you doing here?" He didn't wait for a response, but turned to his partner. "Kate? You okay?"

He stopped blinking long enough to see her position mirrored his own, though she was cradling her head while he had gripped the bridge of his nose.

"I'll live." She left one hand on her head and shooed his hands away so she could look at his nose. "Got you good, huh?" she asked as he winced under her probing fingers. "You'll be fine."

"Well, now that we have that established," Paula broke in. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me what is going on?"

"We were sleeping," Castle answered as Kate bent to retrieve the laptop which had slipped dangerously towards the ground.

"Something else you could have told me about. Rick you know the field-day the press is going to have when they find out you are sleeping with the muse. Don't you think your agent should at least have an advance warning?"

"Whoa!" he held up both hands, though his eyes were still watering. "Firstly, 'the muse' has a name. And secondly, we are not sleeping together."

"Ricky," she looked at him plaintively, how-stupid-do-you-think-I-am?

"Paula," he insisted.

The dark haired agent flicked between him and Kate and seemed to back down, relaxing her rigid posture.

"If you say so," she sounded resigned. "If that's the case, I assume the reason you've been avoiding me is because you've gone and done something stupid again," she waved a hand absently at his cast. "I've got to say, it's been a while."

He looked disgruntled, but was imminently relieved she deigned to drop the earlier subject.

The last week had been careful between the two, though for once Kate seemed more at ease than he was. She had been the one to invite herself over the day after reading his scene.

"You still have two weeks in that cast, Castle," she had said. Completely offhand as well, as if she couldn't comprehend his bemused joy at her presence.

A week later and they were back to where they had been. Well, not exactly, there was an air of confidence she hadn't had before - at least not outside the precinct. She was more open. Stronger and a little vulnerable. And inspiring enough that they were already in the process of writing the last chapter. A whole novel in a little over five weeks.

He should give her hands a massage. Even one handed.

"I suppose I should thank you for not breaking his nose," Paula added as offside to Kate, bringing him back from his wool-gathering. Kate merely raised an eyebrow in return. "It makes photo shoots so much more trying. It was bad enough when he burned off his eyebrows," Paula sounded aggrieved and put out over the incident a decade old.

Castle deliberately ignored the amused stare Kate directed at the side of his face and directed the next comment directly at the dragon in front of them.

"So, Paula. I assume there was a reason you tried to shave a year off my life, unless of course, you were secretly hoping that Beckett would break my nose."

Paula ignored the pointed words. "I'm here to talk about the new book obviously."  
"Obviously. And this couldn't have waited?"

"I've been waiting a week for you to call me back."

"Castle!" Beckett huffed.

"We were busy!" he defended himself.

"Not that busy."  
"So, the new book," he grasped at the subject a little desperately.

Paula still didn't look happy, but condescended to sit in the armchair beside the couch. "Yes. The new book. Gina sent me the first few chapters," she frowned.

"I imagined she would," he replied, beginning to see where this was going.

"Not quite your usual style, Ricky."

"I would imagine not."

"But that is between you and Gina, and Kate now apparently."

"Would somebody care to fill me in?" Beckett asked a little wryly.

The agent's attention swung to focus on her and Beckett understood why Castle had hired her. She was very good at her job, and very commanding.

"Has Rick here told you what he gave as the tentative title when he admitted those chapters?"

The very blunt question had him shifting in his seat a little uncomfortably. Paula already knew the answer to the question. He hadn't told Kate yet, but he hadn't been keeping it from her, just waiting for them to finish the book first. Feeling the strength of the stare she rested on him, he hoped he would have a chance to explain that.

Her eyes were intent on him when he shifted a little to face her, but she didn't seem offended. In fact, she must not have been too worried at all, because she hadn't shut down her face. She trusted him.

"I was going to wait until we were done, or at least until it came up naturally," he offered and her eyebrows rose, prompting his to continue. "It's not finite, but I like it and I think it makes sense, for them," he didn't look away. "And for us."

"And what would this name be, Castle?"

"_Shared Heat._" He held her attention, bracing himself.

"_Shared Heat_," she repeated.

He nodded slowly, holding his breath while he watched her process it.

A small, shy smile danced across her lips. "I like it."

…

"So, _Shared Heat?_," Kate questioned after hurricane Paula had blown out.

The agent had left almost as agitated as she had arrived; it didn't take an expert to see that Castle had been stalling her. Whenever the talk tended towards signings and public appearances he would shut the topic down. When the phrase 'book tour' came up, she was grateful.

"Too easy?" he questioned.

"What's in a name?" she shrugged.

The story itself was more than enough to negate whatever impressions of the mundane the title might imply. Though she had her suspicions that Paula loved the title and the rumor-mill it was likely to restart. It was probably the reason she had made the trip: to see for herself so she could start planning statements and whatever else she was in charge of. It certainly wasn't going to hurt sales.

He frowned and lifted his eyebrows in easy defeat. "I call you Beckett, I call you Kate, Detective. I might have preferences, but at the end of the day you're still you: an overworking coffee-addict with a beautiful mind and a sharp tongue."

"Unless you want to find out just how sharp my tongue is, you should stop now, Castle."

He just leered at her and she didn't mind much.

He had a point though. She could call him Rick; it wouldn't make any difference or even mean that much because the feelings behind it were the same as when she called him Castle.

Her eyes drifted back down to the computer on her knees and quickly re-read the last paragraph they had written together. All that remained now was to write the last scene and those two small words which would put an end to her brief excursion into his world.

"Hard to believe isn't it?" he asked.

There he went again, reading her. It didn't seem to matter how much dust she threw up, he always saw through it. Hadn't he proven it when he wrote the shoot-out scene? He had allowed Nikki weakness, forgiven Rook his flaws and more than that, he confessed. He confessed how messed up he was after her shooting, maybe even now.

She felt he deserved honesty after all this.

"I'm going to miss it," she admitted. She was going to miss making something new. She was going to miss this new side of them and the feeling like she had something to come home to. Because it really had started to feel like home. The week that saw her returning home to her own apartment had become alien. But she was just going to have to get used to it again.

He smiled gently and laced his fingers through hers. It was a tight fit, but she was more taken with how well she knew those fingers even though she had been the one typing.

"Me too. But we're not done yet."

She straightened and squeezed his hand before retreating and readying her fingers over the keyboard. "How about we get on that?"

"You got it, partner."

…

He had his final appointment in three days. Gina had received and accepted the manuscript a week ago and Castle was on edge waiting for his decision to blow up in his face. This phone called seemed like somewhat of an omen.

"No, you can't come here." Kate would kill him if Paula stormed in here. "Why? Why do you think Paula? She's busy, we're busy…Funny…No seriously," he cast his eyes around until they lighted on the murder board.

Delay, delay.

"Paula, I'm doing what's best for all of us, we're working on a really grisly one at the moment and I remember what cleaning up after you is like. That night in L.A after you decided rum and tequila would work well together? This case is like drinking rum and tequila all night."

Kate's eyebrows had gone skyward but she didn't bother looking away from the warrant she was filing for on her computer. His partner.

Yeah, he made the right choice.

"If it's so urgent I'm sure I can convince her to come over to the loft after we finish," he looked over at her and she shrugged.

"How about I just give you a call?...Who do you take me for, of course I'll call you back. You have so little faith in me." He ignored the little snort he heard over his shoulder and hung up.

"Why does she want to talk to me?" Kate sounded resigned.

"She doesn't." At least not yet - one good thing about that conversation.

She looked up from her computer.

"Really," he assured her. "Gina is the one who wants to talk to you. Paula wants to talk to the Captain."

"Why'd you look at me when you said you'd be able to convince her over to your loft, then?"

"Because you're going to help me."

"Confident aren't you?"

"Cautious. I can't get thrown out of my own house."

"Castle, what have you done that would make Gates want to throw you out?"

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it." Probably you and the rest of the apartment building. Castle's imagination was more than vivid enough on speculate on the reaction Gates was going to have when she found out he would be stealing her top detective.

The detective who was still unaware of the fact. Oh, this was going to end badly.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with why Gina wants to talk to me now would it?"

"Gina didn't tell me why she wants to talk you," he sidestepped that not-so-little landmine.

"But you have an idea," she observed, leaning back to fix him with an intent stare.

"I always have ideas."

"Great. It's going to be an ambush," she sighed. "Is there anyone else we should invite to this party? The Captain, Paula, Gina…"

"At least we can get it all done at once. Like a band aid."

"Telling me it's going to hurt isn't making me feel any better."

"Then how about I consent to sharing some intel with you?"

Maybe it wasn't the best game plan to admit that he had information in the first place. Her gaze had zeroed in on him and he tried not to squirm.

"You better not have been holding out on me again, Castle."

"Well not really. I only found out this morning."

She didn't even blink, increasing the tangible pressure. He suddenly regretted not telling about his intentions two weeks ago. She was going to kill him though he couldn't see how he'd had any choice. He wouldn't have it any other way, but if he were able to relive the last month or so, he would tell her earlier.

"How about I tell you over lunch?" he suggested feebly. Give me time to update my will. "Coffee?" he amended when she made no signs of accepting his earlier offer. "Look," he hoped he sounded reasonable. "I'm not going to tell you in front of everyone."

Please may that have appealed to her logic. Possible castration was better left for private.

Her mouth pursed as she considered him. He felt like a piece of evidence on the murder board. In a preventative move born of pure self-preservation, he made for the observation room as being the most private and accessible. The sound of her heels following was audible before he made it ten feet. Both of the boys took one look at their team leader before fixing him with genuinely sympathetic eyes. He crossed his fingers on one hand and dug out his phone with the other, calling up the email he had received from Gina that morning.

He had planned to tell Beckett tonight after coaxing her out to eat somewhere, but he valued his life.

**Final Confirmation : _Shared Heat_ co-authored by Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett.**

**Publishing commences on approval.**

**I hope she doesn't kill you, Richard. **

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Thanks for reading.

Review?

Good luck with the hiatus.


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